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Folayemi Akande

Sonnet ii: Soigné

Twent' springs demise
Yet livin' on nature's lend
Nature beque't' not but tend
Racy your yout', riding on poor beauty' franch's'
Your dainty sight, a place whe'r' every eye dwe'l
As if to chant a spell
From your ripe breast fall and swell

I wonder beauty's ef'ect
If yours were bereft
Nor it, nor no embrace
Should the wor'd devoid y'ur sig't deface?
Then what to do has death?
When y'ur flowery yout' drowns in debt
As falter thee into ev'ry deep depth.

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Sonnet i: Coquette

Your tongue o lass; full of lies
The sky toni't with many eyes
That which squint, an eye of mine
A tale to tell and draw a line
In jaunt fairy and jaunty we will
Cozy the night, mild yet still
Your soul though idle

Your androgynous still fiddle
The sun, the moon, radiant the stars,
Tonight shall slumber on all that glitter
Your bed a vine a glossary of roses
Hightail your folk till the coming of Moses
You I know a fiend of fun
Your tongue shall brid'l as if to scorn.

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Sonnet iv: Rose

My first rose
My first real rose
My brunette shinning armor
With a fragrance of petal so sublime
That brings earth's lust to tremor
Her love she renders and behest no dime
Leaving the world to wonder at her stunning pose

My adulations knows no bound
A million words have I still
Locked in the air yet to be found
My rose is genuine b'cause hers is auburn
Again and again have I a gaze to steal
And a petty thief she's made of me
Since two decades ago when a beauty was born

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Sonnet v: Paramour

Virtue best may reside in Beauty be
Nor lost in consent fortune still
Thy brow to dance, with smile strong as steel
Who hast heart but embrace not thee?
'nless the'r vision not all all see
Nor it, nor no glee of thrill
Or of any laught'r dose of peal
Before then gaze upon thy ever fresh of hue.

Thy charming chime chide me hence
Leavin' my unsang song to theft
Alas! My sweet song now to mourn
Sailing my hope upon a stream so tense
And billow ever atop all waters of th' earth
As if never to yo'r beauty I have to sworn

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The teary ocean

A yawning yellow yacht upon my linger rested,
Wearing blue evening smile upon the sky so nested,
The pregnant sky, the cadence clustered cloud,
And the horizon where my gazes now found,
The dangling wings of fading sun,
Conceived of cloud nine steaming burn.
A travelers faith by ocean drive,
A silent meal with the wind that thrive,
To ride abreast the hills at instant abrupt,
For all ages at rivers disrupt.
A garlour of dine, yet the rich not mine,
All my thoughts to mourn,
And not a word of warn. For the ages yet still cry.

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O Sickly Love

O, hail the nutrient at we starved,
That so long fadeth yet not,
But by doom yet still bear,
A blare of a life not seen,
Whilst all aversion at naught,
Let me not to this infirmity of love,
At we sickly commit,
That feebly against now we rumble,
O sick love,
What to my wandering star thou findeth hast,
To impede me this lady of finest scarlet,
Unwinding me of this covetous gaze,
O sick love,
Permit me this night,
To my woman of love hence seek,
That may hence end my long love sought,
And bed me this night with her rosy lips
and her body of fine fragrances.

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Sailing Hopes

For what do we against rebel desire,
When all naught at we no admire,
Temperance for justice ask,
Do we at this mess bask,
Hovering on faultless tension,
To all that mention,
Like dump mass of logs on dangling pride,
Whilst at will unjust yet ride,
By the two roads identical,
Where engaged travelers rogue sabbatical,
Limbering through thorns of pasture's vine,
To all hath dine,
As we at daily squint past,
With passion at empty vast,
To lead us right,
For now they might,
As consent none into bravery lost,
While today bespeaks of baleful yet another day at must.

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An eulogue never told

A mighty heart with vastly a word to say.
A tossed mind sky high over a star so bright,
So luminous that replicates the ones in her sparkling dark eyes,
I beseech you, my lady, else findeth contour upon-where may fix your gazeth,
That this night with the wooing nightingales,
I might to your wonderments find an eulogy,
For what of beauty shall i say?
If not your smiling face in the first line of my literature.
Fore this day, Shakespeare to all that's comely hath said.
But an imagine homely as yours,
To my hall of fame shall bear.
For you are the divine beauty of all time.

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Anecdote of the gypsies

The macadam, a path broad and thorny,
Macerate skins worn and damn,
Through cloudless clime where fierce and corny,
They rise wearing somber pasty face,
Yet, in lumber somnambulist pace.
Drinking from gourd of oscillate hostility,
With lags hovering in the distance,
Surveyed from yonder of captivity.
An artful grin of grace,
Lassitude steeped by a soul sound so bear,
Yet, the whirling mote indignant cloud not in the rear.
The sassy pedantic sun,
An epitome of fashionable skin burn,
The ephemeral of age,
Succeeding with rage,
What a radical euphemism to tango with ignorance,
No euphoria still, to reckon such exuberance.

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Sonnet VI: thine fair love, thine pride

I indite this ramble to prove that thine intentions
Are of graver labour into lust of thine contentions
Since denounced thee of thy conjugal consent
Apart fallen thine world ever thence
I have strived under the scorching eye of the sky
And beneath the gorgeously low moon have I so tense
To linger earnestly thine hopes where high

You do no worst my dear, despite my wrong
I shall cast thy beautiful antique into thine mind
In thy fair love's beauty treads every glow
Is there more to it that I do not know?
That stars fall in thy eyes in throng
And men claim thee of poor earth's pride
In this league of adulation my dear, I do belong

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